I’m trying to convince myself that there’s beauty in whatever this stage of my life is

Beauty in the mundane

In routine

In me

Even though it sometimes feels like I’m watching my life pass me by from another room

A bystander to my own experiences

Recalling my own memories as if they were legends told to me by campfire light

Finding myself stuck replaying my trauma like a skipping record

Trying to find a clue of how to heal

Trying to find the missing piece

Trying to figure out how to be content with where I am

Trying to live in the moment

Trying to believe that it’ll all work out in the end

Trying to have faith that everything happens for a reason

Trying to be

Trying to